


Long Walks on the Beach

by Dracoduceus



Series: Cupid's Pony Express [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Centaur Hanzo Shimada, M/M, Werecat Brigitte Lindholm, Werewolf Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:33:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: Hanzo isn't convinced that McCree likes all of him. From all of his jokes, it almost sounds as if he has a horse fetish, much to Lúcio and Brigitte's amusement.When McCree asks to spend time with him one evening for dinner, they convince Hanzo it's the best time to ask him.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Series: Cupid's Pony Express [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1303655
Comments: 6
Kudos: 81





	Long Walks on the Beach

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Sweet Dreams and before Ugly Sweater before they officially got together...romantically. 
> 
> This was inspired in some ways by the worst Valentine's Day I ever had when I was a senior in college (involving a stuck car that was not ours, a missed reservation, and spending three hours shoveling snow and ice in our fancy clothes) and a real place I visited while studying abroad in Costa Rica. It was about a half hour's motorcycle ride down the road and then an hour-long hike along the beach, where we had to wade through two estuaries. After all of that, it was another fifteen minute hike into the forest and then we got to see this enormous waterfall that opened into a pool that was about hip-deep for my short legs.

“Why are you stressing?” Brigitte asked, pausing the motion of her hands in Hanzo’s tail. “If you don’t hold still, your braid will be crooked,” she warned.

Hanzo’s tail twitched in her hands and with a fondly exasperated sound, she finger-combed the braids out and grabbed the brush again. “Sorry,” he said.

“You’re unusually twitchy,” Lúcio observed as he curry-combed Hanzo’s coat. “Something on your mind?”

Brigitte made an amused sound. “Is it McCree again?” she asked. When Hanzo flinched with his whole body, she laughed. “Are you pining after him again?”

“I do not pine,” Hanzo muttered unconvincingly.

“Sure,” Lúcio teased as he switched brushes. “What’s the _vaqueiro_ done to get you all worked up?” he asked more sympathetically.

Hanzo shifted. He apologized when his fidgeting made his tail smack Brigitte. She laughed, patted his hindquarters, and resumed combing his tail again. “He asked me to join him for the day,” he admitted. “This coming weekend.”

“Oh?” Brigitte asked.

Hanzo stamped one of his front hooves. His ears twisted back nervously. “Just the two of us.”

“That’s great!” Lúcio assured him. “Did he say anything else?”

“No,” Hanzo murmured. “He just asked if I was free on Sunday and if I would join him for the day. And…” he cleared his throat. “The evening.”

His small herd laughed and teased him good-naturedly. They knew about Hanzo and McCree’s…trysts, if only because Lúcio really seemed to enjoy combing Hanzo’s coat. He was bound to ask eventually why Hanzo took so many baths in the nearby creek, which littered Hanzo’s coat with silt, sand, and other detritus as he climbed in and out of the water.

“So, what’s the problem?” Brigitte asked. “Hold still now; I’m going to try braiding your tail again.” It had grown out to a proper length and when Hanzo had admitted to disliking it so long—stemming from a paranoia that he’d had since a foal of stepping on it—Brigitte had volunteered to braid it up to keep it out of the way.

Hanzo shifted his weight on his forelegs nervously, careful not to twitch his tail out of Brigitte’s hands. His ears ticked back. “I’m not sure that he…likes me.”

He twitched when Lúcio laughed. “Sorry, not really laughing at you,” he assured Hanzo, patting his withers affectionately.

It was a touch that he was getting used to, was beginning to find…pleasant. Hanzo rumbled low in his second chest and Lúcio patted his withers again.

“I know the feeling of…self-doubt,” Lúcio assured Hanzo. “Don’t like the brain gremlins win! The _vaqueiro_ likes you plenty, dude.”

Hanzo shifted again. “Well,” he said slowly. “I don’t know if he likes…all of me,” he admitted.

“You think he only likes your upper half?” Brigitte asked, frowning down at the braid. It had looked so easy in the video and now that Hanzo wasn’t twitching, she couldn’t blame him for having a part in ruining the braid. Holding the strands in one hand, she pulled up the video on her tablet with the other.

The centaur cleared his throat, the tick of his ears an indication that he was embarrassed, though she couldn’t see his face. “Ah…the…other half.”

Both sets of hands stilled on him.

“Okay,” Lúcio said slowly. He cleared his throat. “You think that he has…uh…a horse fetish?” his voice cracked halfway through.

Hanzo shifted. His ears pinned briefly. “When you say it out loud, it sounds ridiculous,” he muttered.

“There must be a reason that you think that though,” Brigitte said, giving Lúcio a dark look. He mimed zipping his lips shut, though he immediately bit his lip to keep from laughing.

They fell into silence and used to this, Lúcio and Brigitte waited Hanzo out as he reordered his thoughts and weighed the benefits of confiding in them. Lúcio switched from the hard brush to the soft, polishing Hanzo’s to a glossy shine with the help of a light spray of diluted lotion.

Lúcio was just reaching for the hoof pick when Hanzo said very quietly, “He is very…focused on that part of me.”

“Hey,” Lúcio said. “Some men are ass-men, you know?” he eyed Hanzo’s hindquarters, patted his glossy coat. “They can appreciate a good ass.”

Brigitte gave him another dark look. “He does help to take care of you,” she pointed out. “And you don’t mind us focusing on your lower half.” Even as she said it, she knew that they were different. His feelings for them were…not quite the same kind of “affection” he felt for McCree.

Hanzo’s ears ticked back in acknowledgement. Glancing at him, Brigitte found him looking down at his hands. He shifted as Lúcio tapped one of his ankles, lifting it into the musician’s grip.

“He always talks about his horses whenever we’re together,” he admitted. “Or the horses he used to have. Apparently, his family had a ranch.”

“No kidding?” Lúcio asked. “So, he’s _actually_ a cowboy?”

Hanzo whickered in agreement. “Or he was before he joined a gang,” he amended.

“You learn something new every day,” Lúcio said absently. “You got a stone here, buddy.”

“Aside from that,” Brigitte said patiently. “What other evidence do you have?”

Hanzo couldn’t shift nervously while his hoof was in Lúcio’s grip. His ears twitched. “He goes…riding with me sometimes,” he admitted. “He joins me while I meditate,” he amended quickly and Brigitte could see a flush darkening the back of his neck and shoulders. Realizing the double-entendre, Brigitte ducked her head and smiled.

“Is that it?” Lúcio asked gently, though there was humor in his voice. He made a wordless noise of triumph as the stubborn rock he had been working at popped out. The hoof pick clicked and scraped against Hanzo’s hoof and Brigitte peeked around Hanzo’s hindquarters to make sure that he wasn’t digging too hard. “Are you opposed to him riding on your back?”

When Lúcio released his hoof, Hanzo immediately shifted his weight nervously. Making a disgusted sound, Brigitte released the braid and combed Hanzo’s tail out again.

“Sorry,” Hanzo said meekly.

“It wasn’t you,” Brigitte assured him quickly, patting his hindquarters. “This braid looks easy but it really isn’t.”

Lúcio chuckled. “Can I try? We can switch.”

Lifting a hand, Brigitte smiled when Lúcio gave her a dramatic high-five. “I’m tapping out,” she said, taking the hoof pick from Lúcio and giving him her tablet to look at the video and pictures of the braid.

Looking back at Hanzo, she found that he had twisted his upper body around and was smiling fondly at them. Or, smiling at them as much as he typically did, which really wasn’t that much; he only looked slightly less constipated.

She patted his hips and ran her hand down his hind leg. He obligingly shifted, lifting his hoof to let her hook it over her thigh.

“I’m…not,” Hanzo admitted. “You know that I’m not…too opposed,” he added with a hint of teasing in his voice.

Brigitte smiled. “What can I say?” she teased. “For us feline shifters, you’re the best place for a nap. Nice steady motion, room to stretch out, sun on our backs while you meditate? What’s not to like?”

“He at least knows how to ride,” Hanzo added. “At least, he knows how to ride a horse. I suppose it’s a little different than riding a centaur, but he at least doesn’t sit poorly.”

“I ride you into the creek all the time,” Lúcio pointed out. “And you sometimes give us rides when we all go to the beach. What’s different about McCree riding you while you meditate?”

Hanzo hesitated. He cleared his throat. “He…um…makes comments,” he admitted.

“Comments?” Brigitte echoed. She released his hoof and he shifted his weight nervously. Patting his hindquarters, she passed behind him and Lúcio, whose tongue stuck out between his lips as he concentrated on the apparently-very-complicated braid, and moved to Hanzo’s other side.

Hanzo stamped his hoof and then lifted it for Brigitte before she could signal for it. She glanced at his ears and found them pinned in displeasure. “‘Save a horse, ride a cowboy,’” he quoted sullenly. “I know that’s a common phrase—”

“It’s a very ridiculous song,” Lúcio added and Hanzo snorted.

“I know it’s a common phrase,” Hanzo repeated. “But then he’d always say, ‘would it be saving a horse if I rode a centaur?’”

Brigitte made a sympathetic sound, but that seemed to have opened the floodgates.

“He’d always make comparison between sex and riding horses,” Hanzo added mulishly. “And how, whenever he was riding with me, that maybe he should bring along a dildo and attach it to the saddle pad so that if he gets too bored, he can at least entertain himself.”

Lúcio choked and even Brigitte struggled to contain her mirth.

“You can laugh,” Hanzo said morosely, his ears twisting down and to the sides. “If it wasn’t so mortifying I would find it funny. I think.”

“I don’t think it’s funny,” Brigitte lied. “But I think it’s utterly ridiculous and…not to excuse him, it sounds very ‘McCree’.”

Hanzo shifted and leaned his upper torso against the rack that Brigitte had built for him to relax against. He rarely used it, preferring a rigid upright posture after a lifetime of conditioning, but he was beginning to use it more. She suspected that he was using it because talking about McCree’s ridiculousness was draining to the body as well as the sanity.

She patted his flank sympathetically and—as they always did—pretended not to feel the way he instinctively flinched; he hated it when they brought up the unfortunate situation of his brand.

“Look,” she said. “Why don’t you just ask him? You both are very direct people—in this, subtlety is not your strong suit.” Hanzo snorted. “You know it’s not. So this weekend, just ask him. Be up-front about it. Tell him that you’re getting mixed messages and want to know how to proceed with him—that’s it!”

Hanzo heaved an enormous sigh and she smiled, patting his shoulder. He lifted the final hoof for her to clean without prompting.

“I know you’re…at least mostly right,” Hanzo muttered sullenly. “But…”

“Man,” Lúcio said gently. “You know you can’t keep doing this. It’s not fair to keep stringing yourself along.”

Hanzo heaved another enormous sigh. “If you won’t think of yourself,” Brigitte told him sternly, “then think about McCree. It’s not fair to either of you to have disparate expectations of each other. Perhaps he only likes you for sex, or maybe he likes your lower half; maybe he is aiming for something more. You won’t know until you ask.”

“I doubt it’s that,” Hanzo said dismissively.

“You won’t know for sure if you don’t ask,” Lúcio added. “And you won’t lose anything, either.”

Hanzo snorted. “I’d lose my dignity.” He flinched in surprise when Brigitte slapped his barrel. Then he snorted again, tossing his head.

“Just ask,” Brigitte told him. “This weekend when you’re out together. Clear up the air. Relationships of any kind are business negotiations—what happens if the terms are not properly discussed?”

She knew she won—really won—when Hanzo sighed again and let his upper half slump against the rack. Gently, she placed Hanzo’s hoof down and looped an arm over his withers in a one-armed hug.

“I know it’s daunting,” she murmured to him, smiling to herself when she felt one of his arms loop down over her own shoulders in an awkward return of her hug. “But trust me—it’ll be better if you clear the air between you.”

Hanzo whickered in reluctant agreement. “So why haven’t you done the same with Hana Song?” he teased and Brigitte stiffened.

Lúcio laughed. “Busted!”

* * *

“You do know what this weekend is, right?” Lúcio asked Brigitte quietly as they left the workshop areas.

Brigitte, in her cat form, cleaned her paw and didn’t answer except to give him a sly sidelong glance.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Lúcio chuckled. “I didn’t want to say anything either. Maybe we should have.” Brigitte shoved her paw in his ear and Lúcio yelled in surprise. “Alright, fine, I won’t say anything.” He scratched her ruff and she purred smugly.

“I guess it’s good for him,” Lúcio decided as they walked back into the main area of the base. “We’ll see what happens. But just in case, we should be ready.”

Brigitte licked his ear with her rough tongue as he made noises of disgust.

“Yeah, I’ll place an order for his favorite sake and see if I can find some good ramen—or supplies for it,” Lúcio murmured. “Just in case. And I suppose we had better help him get ready.”

Brigitte nearly fell, flailing in surprise when Hana turned a corner and yelled, “ _How?_ ”

Tail fluffed up, she leaped off of Lúcio’s shoulders and raced down the hall and out the door. Despite the scratches in his shoulders and back, Lúcio folded over, laughing so hard that he wheezed.

* * *

“Please tell me that’s _not_ what you intend to wear,” Lúcio said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hanzo’s ears pinned. “Yes?”

Clicking his tongue, Lúcio pulled out his comm and called Brigitte. “Hanzo’s room. Right now.”

Hanzo’s ears were still pinned when Brigitte burst into his room, her arms full of fabric. She carried a bulging duffle bag. “Please tell me that’s not what you intend to wear,” she said when she caught sight of Hanzo. She shook her head. “Come on,” she said briskly. “If you insist on wearing that blanket, then let’s at least make sure it’s clean and steamed—look, it’s covered in creases and wrinkles!”

“And you need a good brushing,” Lúcio added. “Come on—you and I are going to the wash racks to get rinsed off, then I’ll groom you.”

“Meanwhile, I will steam this blanket,” Brigitte told them both. She held out the blanket in her arms. “Do you want to wear the one you’re wearing, or this?”

Hanzo seemed surprised at the soft touch of silk and carefully unfolded the bundle. Obligingly, Lúcio helped to spread it out so Hanzo could get a good look at it.

“We ordered it special,” Brigitte explained. “For good luck—but it’s only good luck if you choose to accept it.” She pulled out matching leg wraps in that same shining blue and trimmed with polished black leather. “It just arrived today,” Brigitte told him. “So I need to steam out the wrinkles from travel, but what do you think?”

Hanzo shifted on his hooves. “I…don’t think I have anything that matches that,” he admitted.

“Oh!” Brigitte reached into her bag and pulled out another bundle: a crisp white shirt folded and packed in cellophane and a black and blue silk waistcoat. “I asked Athena for your measurements but she wasn’t sure. We did our best to guess, though.”

“Think about it,” Lúcio suggested as he tugged at the fastenings of Hanzo’s blanket. “Come on—if we hurry, we can get you fully bathed, dried, and groomed in time to meet McCree.”

Shaking his head, Hanzo nonetheless let Lúcio tug the blanket off of his back and obligingly held out an arm to help Lúcio swing into place on his withers.

* * *

In the end, they needed to get Ana’s help to finish getting Hanzo dressed. Between the three of them, they managed to get Hanzo’s long tail into some semblance of order, pinning and braiding it into a net pattern studded with small blue and silver stones to match his outfit.

“Do I…look okay?” Hanzo asked hesitantly, turning in a slow circle.

Brigitte pressed both hands to her mouth. “You look great,” she assured him. “Now go—and remember what I told you!”

Shaking his head, Hanzo turned and left.

McCree had asked to meet him at the grassy park near the beach so he carefully picked his way down, trying not to mess up his finery. He found his companion standing…

Next to a horse.

Immediately, Hanzo’s ears pinned in irritation.

When the horse reacted to Hanzo’s obvious frustration, McCree turned and beamed at Hanzo. He whistled, looking at Hanzo from ears to hock. “Don’t you look like a million bucks,” he breathed. “Are you up for a walk on the beach?” McCree frowned at Hanzo’s clothes. “I suppose I should have warned you. Is that stuff too…nice for the beach?”

Forcing himself to keep his body language neutral, Hanzo said, “No, it’s quite alright. It’s a lovely day for it.”

McCree grinned and untethered the horse who was looking at Hanzo in near-terror. The poor thing knew that he was displeased and had likely figured that he had something to do with it.

Reluctantly, Hanzo whickered at the horse soothingly—it wasn’t his fault that McCree apparently had a horse fetish.

Oblivious, McCree swung into the saddle and turned the horse toward the sand. “Look, I’m the same size as you,” he teased. “And I’m not even on your back.”

Hanzo said nothing, his ears twisted backwards. It was hard to enjoy McCree’s company with the weight of what he knew he had to discuss looming over them. But McCree was oblivious and continued to chatter.

They walked down the beach and Hanzo was careful to not mess up his finery. The fine silk and polished wouldn’t hold up well with the salt water and he’d hate to ruin such a lovely gift.

But perhaps he spoke too soon as they came across an estuary where the creek near the base ran into the sea. It wasn’t too deep, but it would certainly ruin his nice clothes if he were to walk through it and frustrated, his ears pinned.

“Sorry,” McCree said apologetically, tugging his horse to a stop at the edge of the rushing water. “I didn’t think…” he looked at Hanzo’s nice silk clothes and swore to himself.

With a reluctant sigh, Hanzo bent and began to undo his leg wrappings, then unbuckled his blanket which he folded and bundled in his arms. Ears pinned, he walked through the water, which came up to his barrel, and made it to the other side.

McCree’s horse splashed loudly through the water and shook himself off, nearly unseating McCree. “Hey,” he said, pulling the horse to as top next to Hanzo. “I’m—”

“It’s fine,” Hanzo said tightly, not looking at McCree. His tail flicked in frustration. Sand was already beginning to stick to his wet legs and barrel. He could feel his tail, long enough to drag behind him, picking up sand as well.

They walked in silence for a while.

“Look,” McCree said at last. “This…wasn’t how I meant for it to go.” He slumped in the saddle. “I wanted to do something special with you but I didn’t think…I’d done this ride so many times but I forgot about the damn creek.”

Hanzo took a deep breath and forced himself to exhale slowly. “It’s fine.”

“But it’s not,” McCree said miserably. He turned his horse to a rocky path leading into the thick trees. Hanzo watched as he dismounted and tied his horse off to the side. “I wanted to do something special and already…” he shook his head. “Come on.”

Curious despite himself, followed McCree, placing his feet carefully to avoid slipping on the rocks.

“Not many people know about this place,” McCree explained as they walked. “But I thought…that it would be a nice place to have dinner. Just the two of us.” He cleared his throat. “And watch the sunset.”

He took Hanzo up a narrow path that twisted around. Hanzo soon realized that the dull roaring he could hear wasn’t from the surf, but from an enormous waterfall. A table too tall to be typical for humans had been set up on a relatively dry section of rock. Beside it were a small row of insulated pots that had been knocked over and their contents looted. 

McCree heaved an enormous sigh that sounded nearly like a sob. “Of fucking course,” he muttered. He sat down heavily on the wet stone at the edge of the waterfall and let his head fall forward. 

He cleared his throat, still not looking at Hanzo. “Well, I suppose it can’t get any worse,” he muttered. “He looked up at Hanzo and spread his arms in a halfhearted flourish. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” 

Surprised, Hanzo lifted his head. “Valentine’s Day?” 

McCree huffed a laugh. “I’m not sure you celebrate it,” he admitted. “But I needed to...try at least. It’s...Valentine’s Day.” McCree sighed again. “It’s supposed to be a romantic holiday—”

“I know what Valentine’s Day is,” Hanzo interrupted. 

McCree cleared his throat. “Right. Well...I just wanted to give it a shot, you know? At least try to do something romantic.” 

“Romantic,” Hanzo echoed, feeling as if he was dreaming. 

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” McCree asked, clearly becoming frustrated. “I...like you. A lot. And I’d like us to be...more than what we are now. Friends. Friends with benefits. Whatever this is.” He cleared his throat. “If...you’re interested in a wolf like me, that is.” 

For a long moment, Hanzo stared mutely at him. “Valentine’s Day,” he repeated stupidly. “You wanted to…”

McCree grimaced, baring his teeth which were becoming fangs. “Court you,” he snarled, voice an octave lower. “Yes. Do you accept or not?” 

Hanzo scowled at McCree. “How can you court me?” he demanded. “When you only like one half of me?” 

“Only like half of you?” McCree demanded. “What the fuck?”

Ears pinning, Hanzo stamped. “Don’t be coy,” he snapped back. His tail flung wet sand as it flicked in frustration. “How many times have you said that you’d save a horse and ride a centaur? How many times have you decided to masturbate while riding on my back? How many times have you compared me to your horses?” he shook his head. “How can you want to court me when all you think of me is that? A very smart horse?”

“Now just wait one second—”

Turning, Hanzo began making his way back to the beach. “While I appreciate your…efforts, I…” he stopped himself to keep McCree from hearing the way that his voice was about to break. He swallowed, hearing McCree scrambling down the rocks after him. “If you cannot like all of me, then what’s the point?” he asked.

McCree managed to get in front of Hanzo only by virtue of being more secure on his feet on the slippery stones. Having not expected to do such hiking, Hanzo hadn’t put on any of his shoes and as such had to walk carefully to not slip or get a rock stuck somewhere tender.

“Whoa,” he said, holding out both hands. “Who says I don’t?” he demanded. “Jesus Christ, Han.” He dragged a hand down his face. “This is a mess. Look. The short of it all is that I like you. Fuck, I like all of you, you ass. I’m sorry that I had never made that clear.” He cleared his throat. “I thought I had did considering how much…time we’ve spent together.”

Hanzo’s ears twitched. “We had sex,” he said flatly. “And then you’d leave after you had your fun.”

“You used to kick me out,” McCree pointed out. “Why would I believe that you wanted me to stay?” he sighed. “Look…ball’s in your court now. I’m interested in you—all of you. And not just for sex. I’m…interested in a relationship—a romantic relationship—with you.”

Hanzo walked to McCree’s horse who gave him a wary look. Behind him, he could hear McCree mutter to himself in Spanish as he began cleaning up. Sighing, Hanzo draped his folded blanket and leg wraps over the horse’s back. “Hold this,” he told the horse who gave him a reproachful look.

Turning, he carefully picked his way back to the ruins of McCree’s attempted romantic dinner. Though he could hear Hanzo coming, McCree didn’t turn around, packing up the overturned crock pots and packing them into insulated crates that had been hidden in the bushes nearby.

McCree yelled in surprise when Hanzo picked him up and wrapped his legs instinctively around Hanzo’s upper hips and his arms around Hanzo’s neck. Hanzo flinched when he felt McCree’s spurs—dulled and decorative but still uncomfortable—dig into his lower shoulders.

For a long moment they stared at each other, McCree wary and Hanzo thoughtful.

“What kind of human would want a relationship with a centaur?” Hanzo mused.

McCree made a face. “Ain’t no human,” he pointed out with a weak grin. It faded. “At the same time…I like you, Han, just as you are. It doesn’t matter much to me that you’re a centaur, except that I just need to be creative about how to love you.” He flinched.

“You said ‘love’,” Hanzo said, feeling ridiculous to be regulated to simply repeating words. His ears twitched back. “You love me.”

It was hard to look away given how close they were and how strong Hanzo’s grip on McCree was. This close, he could see the way that McCree’s dark skin flushed. He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said, voice cracking a little. “I think I do. Or at least…something close to it.”

Hanzo peered at McCree. “I don’t know if I can say the same,” he admitted slowly. “Certainly, I am…fond of you. I appreciate your skill on the battlefield—in either form. I appreciate your…attention to the team and to me. You are attractive in either form, even if you are far from conventional beauty.”

“Thanks,” McCree said dryly.

“I suppose that I like you well enough,” Hanzo told him. “But I’m not yet sure that I love you. However…” he hesitated and remembered Brigitte’s words. A business agreement; they needed to discuss their terms. “I am not opposed to entering a relationship with you. A romantic relationship, not just…sexual. I am…willing to see where this will take us.”

McCree looked at him with an unreadable expression. Then his face softened into a slight smile. Hanzo leaned in for a kiss. It was different now than all of the other times that they’d kissed.

Now there was no rush, no burning need. McCree ran his fingers through Hanzo’s hair, brushed at the shaved back and sides of his head. Whickering, Hanzo shifted a hand—using the other to keep McCree pinned against his front—and cupped the back of McCree’s neck.

“If you’re not careful,” McCree hissed when he pulled back for air. He didn’t have two sets of lungs like Hanzo did but though he was disappointed that they had stopped, Hanzo was pleased to hear how wrecked McCree was. “You’ll give me the wrong idea.”

Chuckling, Hanzo pressed a kiss—close-mouthed, gentle—against McCree’s lips before gently setting him down. “Let’s clean up,” he suggested. “And then we can watch the sunset like you wanted. And…maybe we can find something back at base. It may be too late to go into town for food.”

“I’m sure we can find something if we need to,” McCree murmured as he went back to packing. “So long as you don’t mind fast food.”

Hanzo helped him pack the crates, loading half on the horse and leaving half on the side to load on Hanzo’s back at his insistence.

“I’d love to see you wear this again,” McCree murmured, reverently folding Hanzo’s nice new blanket and leg wrappings. “Combined with that shirt and vest? Darling, you nearly killed me when I first saw you.”

Because he could, Hanzo leaned down and kissed McCree, who clung to his shoulders and kissed back. Hanzo heard the horse snort grumpily and smiled.

“Sunset,” he reminded McCree, leading the way back to the beach.

“There was a nice spot by the waterfall to watch,” McCree protested.

“But in the dark, it will be harder for me to climb down,” Hanzo pointed out. “The beach is fine unless you have a surprise up there too?”

McCree smiled crookedly. “Nah,” he said. “Just thought it’d be nice.” They walked together back to the beach and Hanzo lay down on his side, curling his hooves toward his barrel. At Hanzo’s gesture, McCree sat back against Hanzo’s side.

“I’m…” Hanzo hesitated. Was it too trite? “I’m glad that we cleared this up.”

Turning, McCree smiled at him and hesitantly tangled their fingers together. He leaned against Hanzo’s upper half and Hanzo smiled. “I’m glad, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Love it? Hate it? Let me know! I love hearing from you!
> 
> You can also find me on Twitter at [Dracoduceus](https://twitter.com/dracoduceus). 
> 
> Thanks for making it this far!
> 
> ~DC


End file.
